Lined up against the wall, achievements shine as far as the eye can see. Gold medals, glimmering trophies engraved with congratulations and titles. How great you are. How lucky you are. 

And yet here I stand before you, looking down at your extended hand with disgust. You want me to come with you, to join your wall of achievements, to become your prized trophy. 

To be the final proof you have it all. 

Disgusting. Entitled. Misogynistic. Disrespectful. 

I am not property to be bought or sold. I don’t exist for the likes of you. No money thrown in my face will ever change my mind. I am not your shiny new toy to show off in the next big game. 

I’m not your bitch. 

I have morals and ideals. I am human and I am worth more than anything you could ever offer me. 

Whoever guided you failed to teach the meaning of equality. I pity you, loving your life thinking naively that the world will bend the knee to you because of your gender. 

You are sorely mistaken.

Perhaps I would have attempted to explain but I see no need. Laughing at the obscenity of your entirety serves me just as well. 

You get angry because I have the backbone to tell you I would rather throw myself off a cliff than damn myself with the life you so eagerly shove in my face. 

Insane, hysterical, out of my mind you yell. 

Angry or not, my life doesn’t revolve around your own. So as I turn down your offer I don’t feel remorse. Luxury comes at a price I do not wish to pay. It’s no loss for me, something I think it is all too common to forget; I am worth more than anything else in my life. Should anyone ever be worth more than my own life than I have failed to maintain my own happiness and self worth.

So collect your trophies and stack them until you have no room left to add more. 

I won’t be one of them. Ever. 

I am not a possession, I am a woman. I am outspoken and strong. I don’t need you to be, “complete”. 

I am complete all on my own.